Fatal Thunder

14 SMOKE AND MIRRORS

The door burst open as six men in SWAT gear poured into the room, weapons at the ready. Their forced entry was unnecessary; the room was empty. The squad leader signaled for his men to disperse and make a thorough search. After the all-clear was given, a CBI agent entered, turned on the lights, and made his own inspection. The desk light was still on, as if the occupant had only stepped away for a moment. The desktop itself was immaculate, and the admiral’s in-box was empty. All the paperwork had been moved neatly into the out-box. Disappointed, he sighed. The agent wasn’t surprised that Dhankhar was gone; by all accounts the admiral was a very smart man. It just meant that his job was going to be a whole lot harder.

“This is Agent Devan,” he said into his radio. “The suspect is not here. The office is empty. I’m about to begin an investigation of the office and will check the computer hard drive as well, but I’m not confident I’ll find much. Please inform Director Kumar.”

Devan turned to the SWAT team squad leader. “Begin a methodical search of the building. I doubt Admiral Dhankhar is here, but we must know for certain. Check in every half hour.”

The SWAT team departed, joining the rest of the law enforcement and military police personnel in securing and searching the Eastern Naval Command headquarters. The CBI agent knelt down next to the admiral’s chair and examined the desk. All the drawers were unlocked. They contained nothing unusual, just mundane office supplies and documents that would be collected in due course. No thumb drives or external hard drives were present, nor were there any cell phones or other electronic devices. A check of the desk’s structure showed there weren’t any hidden compartments. The two filing cabinets were just like the desk: impeccably kept and full of routine paperwork and reports. There was nothing in the trash can.

Returning to the desk, Devan started up Dhankhar’s computer and inserted a thumb drive in one of the USB ports. Moments later he had recovered the network access password and logged in. Checking the e-mail folder, he found it empty, no surprises there. But there weren’t any files stored on Dhankhar’s virtual drive or the hard drive either. Everything was gone. He used a quick recovery application to see if any files had been recently deleted, still nothing. Annoyed and frustrated, Devan removed the thumb drive and shut down the machine. The computer forensics team would have to tackle this one. The squawk of his radio pulled his attention away from his futile investigation; the SWAT team reported in that the perimeter was secure and that a room-to-room search of the building had begun.

The CBI agent acknowledged the report and left to supervise the search of the building. He was certain they’d find no trace of the admiral here. Silently, he hoped the other teams would have better luck. If not, India was a big country; it would take a long time to search just the cities and larger villages. And then there were the countless smaller villages near the borders, particularly with Pakistan, that national law enforcement rarely visited. If Dhankhar had decided to go to ground, they might never find him.

Samant and Petrov waited impatiently for the military police and explosive ordnance people to finish their detailed inspection of the torpedo shop. No one expected any booby traps, but Director Kumar wasn’t taking any chances. None of them would be allowed into the workshop until the security detachment said it was safe. Exasperated by his forced inactivity, Samant wandered about the parking lot. His thoughts were racing, as he desperately tried to think of a way to save his former shipmates; his chest still ached from seeing the empty pier as they drove in. Now the whole world would be looking for Chakra, undoubtedly with orders to shoot to kill, and there was absolutely nothing he could do to help them. Samant couldn’t recall a time when he felt more helpless.

“Gentlemen,” shouted Kumar. “The workshop has been cleared for us to enter.”

“Finally,” Petrov grumbled, and headed quickly into the building. Samant followed close behind.

Petrov found it a little bizarre being back in the torpedo workshop, this time surrounded by civilian and military police officials. It looked much as it did the night he and Samant snuck in. Only this time, the secure vault doors were open and there wasn’t a torpedo in sight. The disappointment felt by all was palpable.

“It would appear they left in good order,” remarked Kumar scathingly. The worktables were littered with tools, but no documents were visible. The wooden shipping crates had been removed; even Orlav’s makeshift bed was gone. “They obviously had sufficient opportunity to get rid of anything with forensic value. All that time we had, wasted! I’ll personally make Thapar pay for his treachery!”

Turning to his agents, he ordered, “I want this building thoroughly searched! Every square centimeter is to be gone over — twice! Bring anything, however trivial, to the forensics team for examination.”

Samant walked inside the vault. It was big enough to hold six torpedo trolleys and their payloads. Inspecting the floor, he saw nothing to indicate just how many weapons had been stored in the vault. They’d have to assume that five weapons had been moved to Chakra.

Wait! Naval personnel would have had to load the weapons onto the boat. Rushing over to Kumar, Samant exclaimed, “Director, have any of your people spoken to Captain Narahari Mitra? He’s the shipyard commanding officer, he should be able to tell us how many weapons were loaded and when Chakra left port.”

Kumar quickly raised his radio and passed on to the investigation team at the pier Samant’s questions. While he waited for their response, the director ordered all teams to report in. The news was not encouraging. Dhankhar was nowhere to be found. His office and quarters were empty. The CBI agent in charge of each team said the same thing: Everything was neat and tidy. There was no indication that the admiral had been in any hurry when he departed. After several minutes, the pier team reported in.

“Captain Mitra has been questioned,” Kumar told Samant and Petrov. “He confirms that five weapons were loaded early yesterday evening, and that Chakra set sail at about 2115—over three hours ago. He also said the deployment orders were delivered by Vice Admiral Dhankhar personally.”

Samant shook his head. “Jain’s undoubtedly gone deep and ordered a flank bell by now, putting as much distance between Chakra and Vizag as possible. At least, that’s what I would do. Even if we alerted the patrol squadron at INS Rajali immediately, it would be another hour, maybe two, before they could even hope to have a maritime patrol aircraft in the rough vicinity. That puts her about two hundred miles out into the Bay of Bengal.”

“That’s a very large area for a single patrol plane to cover,” remarked Petrov. “And if Jain is smart enough to drop down to a moderate tactical speed, he’ll be very hard to find. Even for a new U.S. P-8 Poseidon aircraft.”

“He’s that smart. I trained him.” Samant’s face showed a mixture of pride and regret.

“We can sortie the fleet! Chase him down!” Kumar exclaimed.

Both Samant and Petrov smirked at the naive comment. “That wouldn’t help. In fact, all that extra noise in the water would only make it easier for Jain to get away,” Samant grunted. “No, the only assets we have that even have a chance of catching him right now are aircraft. But, as Aleks has already said, the odds are not good.”

“What if Jain has been deceived? You’ve said he was impressionable, Girish. You could send out radio messages with the truth. Tell him about Dhankhar’s lies, and order him to return to base,” suggested Petrov.

Samant shrugged. “We certainly need to try that, Aleks. But I fear his orders will address that contingency. If he stays deep, and I suspect he will, only a VLF radio system can reach him, and the regular maintenance on the transmitter at INS Kattabomman hasn’t been completed yet.”

A deep scowl popped on Petrov’s face. “I know about that project, there are several Russian technicians supporting it. That work should have been finished some time ago, who’s in charge of that effort?” he grumbled in frustration.

Samant’s expression was one of utter amazement. Petrov saw the “Duh” look on his friend’s face, winced, and rubbed his brow. “Of course. Dhankhar. I knew that.”

“Then the situation is hopeless!” Kumar moaned.

“Not hopeless, at least not yet,” replied Samant with stern determination. “But we do need to ask for assistance. Aleks?”

Petrov nodded, took out his cell phone, and punched a few buttons. Raising the phone to his ear, he looked at the CBI director and explained, “It’s times like this when one learns to appreciate friends in high places.”

It took but a moment for the call to go through; the recipient answered quickly. “Dr. Patterson, this is Aleks Petrov. I have some bad news.”

Joanna Patterson didn’t respond to Evangeline McDowell’s greeting. It was questionable whether she even heard it. Marching deliberately, Patterson thrust her finger toward the door, and the Secret Service agent opened it without blinking. He’d been warned to admit the national security advisor without delay. Bursting into the Oval Office, she could see Secretary of State Lloyd speaking with the president. Joanna didn’t care what they were talking about, and didn’t even greet her boss.

“Chakra’s gone, and Dhankhar has escaped,” she announced pointedly.

“WHAT!?” howled Lloyd. Myles let out a groan and cradled his face in his hands.

“How in God’s name did the Indians botch it so badly? I thought we gave them plenty of warning!” Lloyd complained.

“Apparently the number-two man at the Indian Central Bureau of Investigation was in on the conspiracy. It looks like he warned Dhankhar and then stalled the investigation long enough for the admiral and the boat to disappear. Chakra set sail almost four hours ago with the five nuclear-armed torpedoes on board,” answered Patterson.

“Joanna, who told you this?” asked a strained Myles.

“Alex Petrov just called me from the shipyard. They just executed the raid to seize the sub and arrest Dhankhar. Both were gone, Orlav as well. Petrov and Samant are at the torpedo workshop with the CBI director right now.”

“I see. What do the Indians intend to do?”

“There really isn’t much they can do, Mr. President. They’ll scramble maritime patrol aircraft, but the odds aren’t in their favor. Unless Chakra’s new captain does something stupid, an Akula-class boat has the advantage. And Samant has said he trained the man well, so we have to assume he won’t do something stupid,” replied Joanna grimly.

Myles rose and walked around his desk, struggling to come to grips with the nightmare unfolding before them, the nightmare they had tried so hard to prevent. Taking a deep breath and straightening himself, he laid the obvious next question on his advisors. “All right, what do we do now?”

“The cat’s out of the bag, Mr. President. We have to tell the Chinese,” sighed Lloyd.

Joanna nodded. “I concur with the secretary of state, Mr. President.”

The president began pacing, considering his advisors’ recommendation. There really wasn’t a choice. “Agreed,” he said finally. “And we’ll have to inform the Russians as well. But isn’t there something we can do to be more proactive? I don’t like the idea of warning the Chinese and then just watching.”

“We should speak with the Littoral Alliance, get them involved. They have good ASW forces, and it would be in their interest to assist in hunting down Chakra,” Lloyd suggested.

Myles nodded his head, thinking.

“The best platform to hunt down a submarine is another submarine, Mr. President,” offered Joanna. “We have the most capable boats in theater at Guam.”

“Squadron Fifteen,” affirmed Myles.

“Yes, sir.”

Lloyd was visibly unhappy with Patterson’s idea and voiced his objection. “But Joanna, if Chakra is bent on attacking Chinese ports, then she’ll be entering Chinese waters. Our boats would have to go into those same territorial waters to chase them. What makes you think the Chinese will tolerate the presence of our subs?”

“The Chinese know we have the best submarines, and they know what it’s going to take to find and stop Chakra. They won’t like it, not one bit, and they’ll likely complain, but that doesn’t change the fact that we substantially boost their chances of preventing a nuclear warhead from going off in one or more of their ports. Furthermore, if the Chinese do detect one of our subs, it doesn’t sound like an Akula; you can tell the difference.”

Myles paused; both Patterson and Lloyd had valid arguments. The president wasn’t thrilled with the idea of putting U.S. military personnel directly on the firing line again, particularly the submarines of Squadron Fifteen that had borne the brunt of the war. Still, the odds of stopping the rogue Indian submarine were considerably better with the U.S. submarines involved. And offering to send America’s best had political capital of its own. It didn’t take long for Myles to come to a decision.

“All right, here’s what we’re going to do. Andy, I need you to get the Chinese ambassador here as soon as you can. It’s my job to deliver the bad news, and make the pitch for our assistance, Joanna, you’ll help me with that. Andy, then contact Foreign Secretary Jadeja and let him know what we’re doing.”

Lloyd opened his mouth to protest, but Myles cut him off.

“Yes, I know, this will be the second time we’ve gone around the Indian ambassador. It can’t be helped… I’ll personally apologize when this crisis is over, okay? Then I want you to contact the Russian ambassador and tell them what we’re up to. We need to keep them in the loop. Finally, set up a meeting with the Littoral Alliance for Joanna, after she’s helped me with the Chinese ambassador.” Lloyd nodded tightly, acknowledging his orders.

Joanna sighed. “Up until now, the plot and everything connected with it has been kept secret, to avoid tipping our hand. Now, the conspirators in India appear to have been tipped off. At least two are on the run, and the Indian government is trying to recall the boat, and failing that, tracking it down and sinking it. Is there any more reason for strict secrecy?”

“You mean, like the massive embarrassment the Indian and Russian governments would suffer, and the possible panic and chaos it could trigger in China? Those reasons?” Myles was smiling, but it disappeared quickly. “If the Indians could have scooped up the conspirators before Chakra had sailed, the first time the world would have heard of the plot would have been when we issued a joint press release.”

Myles continued. “The Chinese will keep this close, but we have to assume that telling the entire Littoral Alliance means news will eventually leak out, and then there will be hell to pay. All we can do is find and kill Chakra as quickly as possible. I’ll send my communications people to your staff to get briefed, and they can get started on preparing our official response.

“Joanna, your first task is to run out of this room and call Simonis’s staff. Set up a VTC for you to brief the commodore and his submarine captains, and tell them what they need to do. We’ve kept most of them in the dark long enough. You can brief the CNO after you’ve scheduled the videoconference.”

“Yes, Mr. President.”

“All right, then, let’s get to it people! We have a wayward boat to catch.”

The nagging electronic buzz dragged him to consciousness. For the second time that night, the secure phone was ringing. Simonis got out of bed and slowly shuffled to the phone on the other side of the bedroom. Blinking sleep from his eyes, he picked up the handset. “Simonis,” he yawned.

“Commodore, Ops, sorry to wake you, sir, but Dr. Patterson just called. She wants a secure VTC with you and the available sub skippers in one hour.”

Simonis looked at his wristwatch and grunted. It hadn’t been nine hours since COMSUBPAC issued the warning order. “Understood. Did she even give you a clue as to what this is about, Rich?”

“No, sir. She seemed to be in a big hurry and only said it was a high-priority mission that would involve sortieing the entire squadron. She promised a full explanation during the VTC.”

“Very well. Call Mitchell, Dobson, and Nevens and have them report to the squadron conference room in forty-five minutes. Then send a flash precedence message to Texas to come to PD and link in; I want Pascovich in on this one,” directed Simonis.

“Yes, sir. Do you want me to send a driver to pick you up?”

“No, I’ll drive myself in. And make sure someone calls the CSO.”

“He’s next on my list, sir,” replied Walker.

“Good. I’ll be there in about twenty minutes.”

Jerry hustled into the conference room only to find few people milling about. They were engaged in idle chatter, waiting for the VTC to begin. Taking a quick look around the room, Jerry was surprised not to see Simonis already in his seat. Dropping his cover and notebook onto one of the tables, Jerry made a beeline for the coffee mess. As he poured himself a cup, he caught the operations officer’s eye. Jerry’s facial expression silently asked the question, “What the hell is going on?”

Walker only shook his head and shrugged. He didn’t know. Great. I hope this doesn’t have anything to do with my meeting with Samant, thought Jerry. But his gut told him otherwise.

Sipping his coffee, Jerry kept an eye on the door. It wasn’t long before Scott Nevens and Bruce Dobson walked in along with a number of Squadron Fifteen staff members. Jerry greeted his fellow captains and joined in a speculative discussion about the second summons — he didn’t share what little he knew or suspected. After a few minutes, Captain Charles Simonis and his Chief Staff Officer, Captain Glenn Jacobs, entered the conference room. The commodore swiftly scanned the space, locked eyes with Jerry, and motioned for him to break away and come over. Jerry politely excused himself and approached Simonis. The commodore didn’t look happy.

“Yes, sir?” solicited Jerry.

“Captain, if you have any insights into this upcoming confab, I’d appreciate hearing them.” The commodore was visibly frustrated. “I don’t like being kept in the dark, Captain. There’s been no hint of a problem in our AOR; SUBPAC’s warning order came out of the blue. Now, we have this zero dark thirty videoconference with the national security advisor…”

“I think it may have something to do with the information provided by Captain Samant,” Jerry volunteered. “I can’t think of anything else going on in our theater that could have Dr. Patterson so anxious.”

“Do you really believe this Indian nuclear conspiracy theory?” asked Simonis. The tone of his voice betrayed his skepticism.

“I trust Alex Petrov, Commodore, implicitly. He’s a good man, and a damn fine submariner. If he was sufficiently alarmed about this ‘conspiracy theory’ to contact us, covertly, then I think we should be worried.”

“But what about this Indian captain?” Simonis challenged. “What evidence do we have that he’s telling us the truth?”

Jerry glanced around the room and spoke with a lowered voice. “Sir, as I said when I got back from D.C., there is evidence to support Samant’s claims, but I’m not at liberty to discuss it with you.”

Simonis’s jaw tightened. The commodore had been more than a little miffed when Jerry respectfully declined to discuss the evidence earlier, as it was in a special access program that Simonis wasn’t cleared for. The commodore completely agreed with the concept of compartmenting sensitive information, but in this case, he believed he had a legitimate “need to know.”

“But Captain Samant seemed genuinely concerned, sir,” continued Jerry. “As for my impression of the man, he’s a very good boat driver, and I can attest to the fact that he was a royal pain in the ass.”

Simonis nodded. “Very well, Captain. I guess we’ll just have to wait for Dr. Patterson to enlighten us.”

“Commodore,” called out Jacobs, interrupting the conversation. “We have Texas up on the secure video link.”

Jerry looked up at the two large screens. On the left was Ian Pascovich, commanding officer of USS Texas. On the right was the White House Situation Room. An army lieutenant colonel suddenly came into view and hit the mike button. “Squadron Fifteen, stand by, Dr. Patterson will be here shortly.”

“Everyone to your seats, but remain standing,” barked Simonis. There was a brief but chaotic shuffle as the occupants quickly moved to their respective chairs, but soon all was quiet. As the national security advisor came into view, Simonis shouted, “Attention on deck!”

Patterson bowed slightly, acknowledging the honor. Jerry thought she looked a little ragged. “Please be seated,” she said with a tired voice.

“Commodore, I must first apologize for the early wake-up,” began Patterson. “But I’m afraid it couldn’t be helped. We have a very serious situation on our hands.”

“I have all four submarine commanding officers on line, Dr. Patterson. What do you need Squadron Fifteen to do?”

Joanna smiled faintly. “Let me get straight to the point, Captain Simonis. The Indian Akula SSN, Chakra, has gone rogue. She left port without authorization a little over four hours ago. She’s armed with five modified torpedoes, each fitted with a one-hundred-fifty-kiloton nuclear weapon. Her mission is to fire those torpedoes into five of China’s biggest and busiest ports. The apparent goal is to cripple China economically and politically. This operation is part of a high-level military conspiracy that has been initiated without the consent of the Indian government.”

Patterson paused while the audience in Guam struggled with her message. Simonis was flabbergasted, his mouth hanging open in amazement. Everyone else, including Jerry, was just as shocked, if not more so. Not only was Samant’s plot real, but it was in motion.

“We don’t know exactly which ports are on the target list, but we do have some data that suggests no more than ten were considered. The intelligence community is currently working on a best estimate based on overall port capacity and the potential for collateral damage. We believe the desire of those running this conspiracy is to maximize both.”

“Dr. Patterson,” interrupted Simonis. “What are the Indians doing about this rogue submarine?”

Joanna shook her head. “They’re doing everything they can, which unfortunately isn’t much. The Indian government is trying to call her back, sending out radio messages over all available communication channels, but there is little hope this will do anything. Chakra’s too quiet and has too big a head start for the Indian fleet to do anything useful.

“Maritime patrol aircraft are being scrambled, but their best ASW squadron, the one with the P-8 aircraft, was placed in an unscheduled maintenance stand-down last week. Apparently, the Eastern Naval Commander was a key player of the conspiracy and he has severely degraded the ASW capability of his fleet. The best the Indian Navy can do is to get a couple of old Bear F patrol planes out into the Bay of Bengal in about an hour.”

“How soon do you need me to sortie my boats, ma’am?”

“The president wants as many submarines out there as you can, as fast as you can,” Joanna replied. “The one advantage we have is that you have less distance to cover, and if you can establish several patrol barriers near the most likely ports before she gets there, we have a reasonable chance of finding Chakra.”

“And my orders?” asked Simonis hesitantly.

“You are to sink Chakra, Commodore. Preferably before she fires any nuclear-armed torpedoes.”

Simonis seemed to relax a little. “I can get two subs out before the end of the day. Texas is currently at sea, and she’ll reverse course as soon as we’re done here.”

Jerry glanced at the left-hand screen. Pascovich was already signaling his XO to bring her about.

“Unfortunately, it will be at least three days before we can complete the repairs to Oklahoma City,” said Simonis.

“Then we should plan, at least initially, on only three patrol zones,” Patterson concluded.

“Will I need to coordinate operations with any Littoral Alliance submarines?” Simonis looked wary.

Patterson shook her head vigorously. “No, I will be talking to the Littoral Alliance representatives within the next few hours. We will ask for surface ship and MPA support, but no submarines. There’s too much ill will between China and the alliance and we can’t risk their submarines getting in the way.”

“That’s good. We can work out a straightforward arrangement to keep their ships and aircraft away from my boats.”

“You’ll be doing the same with the PLAN,” added Patterson.

Simonis stopped dead in his tracks. His expression was one of disbelief. He seemed unsure as to what he had heard. “Pardon me, Dr. Patterson. Did I hear you correctly; I need to coordinate operations with the Chinese Navy? Tell them where my boats are?”

“Yes, Commodore. The president already has an appointment with the Chinese ambassador and he will make a pitch for this course of action as the best way to stop Chakra. It’s absolutely essential that we cooperate with them in this endeavor.” Patterson’s voice had taken on a stern tone.

“With all due respect, ma’am, that is insane! The Chinese are still trigger-happy from the war!” Simonis argued. “And even if you can work out some sort of arrangement, which I doubt, their performance during the war doesn’t fill me with any confidence. They could very easily wander into one of our patrol areas, shoot any submarine contact they find first and maybe ask questions later!”

Jerry saw Joanna take a deep breath. There were deep furrows on her brow and her lips were tightly pursed. Uh, oh, he thought. He’d seen that look before.

“I understand your reservations, Commodore; in fact, the secretary of defense has voiced similar concerns. But the bigger picture requires us to work closely with the PLAN. If we don’t, and one or more Chinese ports gets wiped off the face of the earth, then we can look forward to dozens of nuclear explosions over China, India, and probably Pakistan. I don’t think I need to explain what the implications of such a scenario are for the United States, do I?”

Patterson let her last point sink in before moving on. “Therefore, the president has decided that working with the Chinese is in our nation’s best interest, and I suggest you act accordingly. Your squadron is the linchpin of our efforts to stop this insane plot. As such, your headquarters will be the primary command and control facility and you will have OPCON of any U.S. assets that may be assigned to this mission.

“Expect the intelligence estimate on the likely port targets and an analysis of Chakra’s probable avenue of approach within the hour. Please forward any personnel and technical support requirements up the chain of command. Rest assured you have the highest priority. Good luck, Commodore, and good hunting.”

Before Simonis could say anything, Patterson got up and left the screen. Everyone in the Guam conference room was stunned. Pascovich’s enlarged image on the left-hand screen echoed what everyone else was feeling — absolute astonishment. Silence fell on the conference room. No one at Squadron Fifteen dared to say a word.